


cherry wine

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: 16th century france... but make it sexy, M/M, and created an au, but hopefully soon?! im kinda stupit sorry, i literally started this bc i saw cyrano recently and i just went oh fuck!! france!!, idk when im gonna get around to updating this since im still working on beyond the sea, meaning gay people and no gender roles but still the Aesthetic you know.., not very historically accurate also nobody really has french names.. but who care. gay people, oh also. slightly blood queen!, still war tho... oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:03:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: A bourgeois' son with a certain refinery about him catches the eye of a new cadet, and him his.





	cherry wine

Austin couldn't quite name what it was about the cadet that caught his eye.

 

Maybe it was that the play was rather boring and the crowd was practically silent. The actors spoke in monotone, and none in the audience were bold enough to do so much as speak up about it. Maybe none knew the hallmarks of good theater, or maybe those who would otherwise be bold knew that men close to the Cardinal were here, and this was no play to die for. Either way, the theater was agonizingly boring.

 

Austin wouldn't say the cadet was particularly interesting either. Maybe that he was fairly... _well acquainted_ with the cadets of Gascogne, and his was a face he had never seen before. Maybe it helped that he towered over most of his peers, a formidable occurrence, especially for the cadets. Maybe it helped that he didn't really _act_ like a cadet, a certain grace and softness to his movements and his voice. Self-consciousness, maybe. If he really was new, maybe he still didn't entirely feel that he belonged, that he was waiting for a chance to prove himself or find true roots in Paris. Maybe it helped that his seat in the balcony gave him perfect view of the cadets, that even through the general rumble of the eager audience they could still be heard.

 

"Wait, Ian-"

 

"Shut up, the play's about to start."

 

"No, just- Who's that in the balcony over there?" The cadet, probably trying to be subtle, rather obviously pointed to Austin, and he purposefully averted his eyes. He fidgeted with his hemline at the knowledge of being watched. He was used to being watched, being the son of the most honored seamstress in Paris, and he always dressed to impress. He was used to the lace and the weight of the skirts, to the corsets and jewels ever present. He was rarely without them, but at that very moment, they seemed suffocating.

 

"Wh- Whatever, I'll tell you later, now shut up."

 

The cadet took one last glance at him, and against Austin's better judgement, he met his eyes.

 

Maybe- No, it was certain that his interest in the cadet skyrocketed when he first saw his face, unobstructed. Austin internally cursed the cadet's dress code, his wide brimmed hat serving only the purpose of seating a plume and hiding his face from above. Only when he tilted his head up to face Austin could he see. His jawline sharp, lined with stubble, eyes blue enough to outshine the sash tied around his waist, even from afar-- lips spreading into a smile, innocent and utterly adorable.

 

For a moment, Austin lost his breath. Maybe it was the outfit, because it surely wasn't this new cadet he had never even seen before, the one whose name was still unknown to him. Surely, because he has discarded admirers infinitely more suited to his needs than this mere cadet, and a play like this would be the last place where one could find love. Surely.

 

Despite this, Austin let himself smile at the cadet, his hand seemingly reaching up on its own to wave.

 

Whatever it was, even as the scenes played out, his mind never wandered from the cadet, and Austin couldn't wait for the intermission.

 

\---

 

Luke hadn’t realized he had spaced out until the rumble of the audience picked up again, the curtain falling for intermission. Maybe Luke wasn’t really one for theater, he hadn’t had much experience, but that was awfully boring, wasn’t it? All throughout, the only thing on his mind was the stranger in the balcony. How detailed his dress, despite only seeing it from the waist up, pearl white with red accents, lace and rubies placed immaculately. Luke wasn’t really one for fashion either, again, he hadn’t had much experience, but the stranger was certainly captivating.

 

Amongst the bustling of the crowds towards the exits, Luke took one more glance at the balcony-- _he’s still there_ \-- and caught Ian by the shoulder before he could leave.

 

“Okay, now will you tell me who that is?”

 

“Who- Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ian grumbled, a quick glance towards the balcony proving he knew exactly who Luke was talking about. Luke cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing.

 

“Wh- What’s wrong, why can’t you-”

 

“Who are we talking about?” Another voice cut in, high and singsong-y. The source-- a fellow cadet, Mai Bellerose Sasaki, brushed a long strand of red hair that had fallen out of her ponytail out of her face, smiling sweetly. Ian only sighed.

 

“Austin Couturière-Hargrave.” Each word was sharp, as if coming from a place of contempt, or simply absurd exhaustion. Mai went pale, green eyes widening.

 

“Wait- He’s _here_?”

 

“What, you didn’t notice?” Ian sneered, glancing up at the balcony again, and Luke got the impression that there was something going on that he didn’t know about.

 

"I- I just- what- where?" Mai stuttered, looking around the half empty auditorium and eventually finding Austin, still up in his perch, looking to his left as if he was purposefully ignoring them.

 

"If the light were any brighter in here, I think he'd be blinding. Now, I urge you both not to do anything stupid-"

 

"I- I don't understand what the problem is…?" Luke stammered, taking another couple cursory glances towards the balcony just to make sure Austin hadn't gone anywhere.

 

"Well," Ian started, seemingly much happier to be talking about Mai's slip up rather than… _what, his own?_ " _Sasaki's_ problem is that every time she tries to talk to him, she gets shut down, and the one time she dared to ask him out for… some reason…"

 

"-And then I kissed his sister," Mai interjected, prematurely ending Ian's sentence as his message had already been made clear.

 

" _Hana,_ Couturière-Hargrave, yes. And how did that go for you?"

 

"Wonderfully, Macleod," Mai replied with a tinge of sarcasm, yet strangely sincere. "-And I wasn't going to do anything stupid, I was just thinking… I'm going to marry her, I'm basically already a Hargrave, so I should at least get to know her brother-"

 

"You wish you had the guts to ask Hana to marry you. You speak so surely of yourself, and yet…"

 

The way Mai's face twisted, the way she clenched her fists and hovered dangerously close to her sword indicated that Ian had struck a nerve.

 

"Excuse me? You think _I_ don't have guts? Where were you at Saint-Étienne, when I held off an entire fleet of Spaniards while you and Fabre cuddled in the corner like you were going to die-"

 

"Don't bring Fabre into this."

 

"-How many times have I saved your life, Macleod? I've lost count. How far away are we from you ever returning the favor?"

 

"I'm well aware of your military victories, Sasaki-" Ian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And I am grateful, but slaying a hundred men is not equitable to asking the one you love to marry you."

 

"Oh yeah? Then where's your husband, huh?"

 

Luke felt-- no, _knew_ that he didn't belong here. That this was none of his business, that he should leave, that he needed to find the girl with the refreshments for some wine or a snack or _anything_ to get out of here.

 

And yet.

 

"He _died fighting,_ Sasaki," Ian snapped, and it occurred to Luke that although he had only known Ian for a couple days, he had never thought he'd see him raise his voice, let alone this soon. Luke desperately, _desperately_ wanted to leave, but was frozen in place. "Maybe that's something you should learn how to do."

 

Mai recoiled slightly, the anger on her face turning to confusion, to disbelief.

 

"You… no… Fabre?"

 

"Oh, yeah," Ian sneered, his tone contemptuous and terrifying, as if he had been possessed. He smirked, twisted and bitter. "At Saint-Étienne."

 

Luke had felt before that he was out of his depth with the cadets. Sure, he knew how to defend himself, but he had never seriously hurt anyone on purpose, let alone _killed_ anyone. He needed the money, but war was a thing he had only distantly considered, and known that he was _no way in hell_ ready for. He wondered if Austin was seeing all this, but couldn't find it in himself to look.

 

"That day was the day I told him I loved him, and he said he loved me too. And I asked him to marry me, and he said yes, but that he didn't think we'd see the day." Ian's voice faltered slightly, visibly holding back tears. Luke wanted to move to comfort him, but the very real possibility that he would lash out at him kept Luke in his place. "And he fought… and died… _valiantly._ Protecting his- _our_ country with honor… and _selflessly_."

 

Half of Luke wanted to ask exactly what happened at Saint-Étienne, but the other half just wanted to cry. The two halves were caught at a stalemate, leaving him standing dumbly at Ian's side.

 

"... I'm sorry. I didn't know," Mai murmured, averting her eyes and curling into herself. Ian took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes and smirking slightly, much less bitter this time.

 

"It's fine. I… It's whatever," Ian said shakily, shaking his head. "Uh, where were we… you not having guts?"

 

"Shut the hell up, Macleod," Mai retorted, the alleviated tension finally giving Luke some room to breathe. "If we're going to be testing anyone's guts, it should be his."

 

Mai pointed to Luke, and that same crushing, anxious feeling returned twice as strong.

 

"Wh- What?"

 

"That was the _other_ stupid thing I didn't want you to do," Ian sighed, back to his old, grumbling self, a blessing and a curse. "You've been in Paris for what, two days? And you've already set your sights on the big leagues, but I don't think getting your feelings hurt is the ideal first impression."

 

“Okay, no-guts,” Mai taunted, and Luke saw an opportunity. If he wanted to survive being a cadet, at least until they inevitably went to war, he needed to prove himself. And he wasn’t very likely to do that in combat, so…

 

“I’ll ask him out,” Luke added, completely unthinkingly. He had guts, right? Austin even smiled and waved at him. It couldn’t be _that_ hard… “I mean, I don’t think it’ll really go well, but-”

 

“Hell yeah!” Mai cried, contrasting Ian’s exhausted dismay.

 

"Don't come crying to me," Ian muttered, the shadow of a smile just barely tugging at his lips, showing he was more amused than he was letting on. "I'm gonna get a drink."

 

"Wait-" Luke caught him by the shoulder again, met by a menacingly icy glare, which didn’t help his pre-existing insecurity about the question. Getting murdered right here, in this theater was a possibility all too plausible for what he was about to ask, but…

 

Luke never claimed to be smart. He took a breath, and spoke.

 

"When I asked about him, you seemed like you had something… personal, against him? Or something… ?"

 

Ian's face went blank, maybe the beginnings of a scowl.

 

"That's… not…”

 

He blinked quickly, shaking his head, his face portraying he was seemingly going through the five stages of grief all at once. A scowl transformed into a frown, then into a resigned “O”, eyes flashing with anger, confusion, despair and… _regret?_

 

In the moment Luke needed Mai most to figure out what the hell Ian was thinking, she disappeared back into the crowd. If he strained hard enough, he could barely hear her voice--

 

“I… Okay, it’s not… a _personal_ thing. Look, I just…”

 

Ian looked back and forth frantically, looking for any potential eavesdroppers before stepping forward and taking Luke by the shoulder. Not an attack, like he feared for only a split-second, but still terrifying in its proximity.

 

“Fine, if you really wanna know, I… I made him a promise, a long time ago, that I wasn’t able to keep. And now I owe him a debt that… I can never truly repay,” Ian whispered, sounding more vulnerable than Luke thought he’d ever hear him, something that if he was a _real cadet,_ he should have made fun of him for. Just as Luke was about to speak, Ian pulled away, blinking quickly and _oh no, smirking again_ like he had just made a profound realization.

 

“Actually… I think you _should_ talk to him. Assuming you don’t get your heart shattered into a million pieces or like, assassinated, if you could do me a favor and tell him I sent you as a… consolation gift, or something like that. Actually, I think he hates me, so maybe don’t, but…”

 

Ian struggled for words again, finding none and settling for a firm pat on Luke’s shoulder.

 

"Whatever. Good luck. I’m _really_ gonna go for that drink now."

 

Ian wandered off without another word, leaving Luke to wonder what the hell any of that meant.

 

He looked up at the balcony one more time. Austin was gone.

 


End file.
